


Monster Under The Bed

by Starthewolf1106



Series: Your House Is Not A Home [1]
Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Child Abuse, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kid Peter Parker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-16 23:57:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19328722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starthewolf1106/pseuds/Starthewolf1106
Summary: An AU where Peter was adopted by Skip. Trigger warning for child abuse, and implied rape of a minor.





	Monster Under The Bed

Peter wasn't afraid of the monster under his bed. He wasn't afraid of the shadows in his closet, or of the little demons in those shadowy corners of his room. He didn't need a night light like most kids his age, because he wasn't afraid if the dark and the monstrosities that hid in it.

Instead, when the Boogeyman peeked it's head out of the closet, Peter joined it. When the monster crawled out from under his bed, Peter hid with it. 

Peter wasn't afraid of the monsters under the bed, because he knew of a real monster; a creature of untold horror. He wasn't afraid of monsters, because he lived with one.

Peter's monster took the shape of a man. Late 30's, nearly-white hair, striking blue eyes, and a charming personality made the monster appear human; made it seem normal.

Peter knew better.

Peter knew, because unlike the fairy-tale horrors that rattled the windows and crawled in the ceiling, his monster was very real.

_Your monster haunts you more than any nightmare or ghoul, because your monster preys on fear. He touched you and whispers disgusting thing in your ear, and there's nothing anyone can do to stop it._

His monster took him when he was nine. His Aunt and Uncle said they 'weren't fit to raise a child.' That hurt, because they had been raising him for five years already.

He had begged them. At that point, he knew of the monster within. He knew, because the light that once shone in his eyes was gone; replaced with fear and resentment.

_The first time was when he was nine and a half. He had went to one of his monster's liars, where the monster struck and took everything from him._

Peter went to sleep at night, fearing for his safety. He slept with one eye open, always painstakingly aware of the slightest sound.

Peter was 11, yet he wasn't like the other kids. They went to school, they had friends and a family that loved them. If they woke up screaming and crying, someone would come and dry those tears. If someone had hurt them, they'd tell their parents, and they would receive a warm hug and soft comforts.

Instead of playing outside with the other kids, Peter spent all his time practicing the skills that would keep him alive.

_Hide. Listen. Be quiet; he might hear. Hide. Run away. Focus. Hide._

Peter most of his time hiding.

Other kids played games like hide-and-seek and Marco-Polo. They played those games for fun, because they will never know that there are worse things than the monster under the bed.

Peter spent most of his time hiding, because that's what kept him alive.

He took his time scouting out each and every hallway, just in case he needed to run. Each morning, he woke up and patrolled the house to find the best hiding spots.

Each time he entered a room, he would find the closest exits out of instinct. He was always aware of everything;always ready to flee.

He was a pioneer; a scientist. Instead of scientific research, or new knowledge that would help humanity, Peter found new ways to stay alive.

He created inventions that could hide him in plain sight, and wore dull clothes that made him near-invisible. He only left his room at night, because that's when the monster slept.

Peter couldn't remember the last time he spoke. 

_"Please don't go! Please!"_

_Peter did, he just didn't want to admit that it had been two years._

His frame was bony, because instead of eating, he hid. He stockpiled food in his hidey holes, so that he may eat it once it was safe.

_It's never safe._

He kept a blanket and pillow in every shelter big enough to his him, because sometimes his house was a fortress; crawling with the worst monster of all.

Now, as Peter stared at the ghost in the mirror, he realized he didn't know who was staring back at him.

Dark rings contrasted sharply with his pale skin hung around his eyes like bruises. His hair was long and curly, torn out in some places. 

Peter's arms were scarred with cuts and burns; same with his body. Scars, bruises, broken bones, cuts and burns; only some self-inflicted.

Peter's house wasn't a home. It was a dungeon, ruled by a creature of evil. His food was always self-made, and the cleaning always done by him.

Peter was forced to grow up early. From the very second that his monster had hurt him for the first time, he was no longer a kid. He could provide for himself, because he had nobody to do it for him.

Peter was okay with that. It was better to be alone than for someone else to come along and hurt him.

_Because that's what they do. They come along, make you trust them, then they leave, die, or hurt you. Your parents, your Aunt, your Uncle, Skip. 11 years old, and you've already lost so much._

His monster had caught him last night. Now, as Peter limped back to his bed, he didn't tuck himself in. Instead, he joined the monster under his bed. 

After all, there were worse things than the monster under the bed.

**Author's Note:**

> I literally woke up in a cold sweat at 5:00 A.M and wrote this. Enjoy!


End file.
